


Assistance

by theLiterator



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-22
Updated: 2010-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-08 07:38:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theLiterator/pseuds/theLiterator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://sagacious-rage.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://sagacious-rage.livejournal.com/"><b>sagacious_rage</b></a>: alistair FINALLY falls asleep<br/><a href="http://sagacious-rage.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://sagacious-rage.livejournal.com/"><b>sagacious_rage</b></a>: pc sneaks out and into zev's tent<br/><a href="http://sagacious-rage.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://sagacious-rage.livejournal.com/"><b>sagacious_rage</b></a>: "please, just get me off."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assistance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sagacious_Rage](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Sagacious_Rage).



> For [](http://sagacious-rage.livejournal.com/profile)[**sagacious_rage**](http://sagacious-rage.livejournal.com/) who said the above one night in IRC.

Boudicca closed her eyes and tried to wake up. When she opened them, she was still half-crushed under a sweaty, snoring Alistair who hadn't shown any indication that he knew what had gone wrong, nor had he seemed to care.

She sighed. Even her naïve fumbling with Bann Teagan as a younger woman hadn't been half so unsatisfying as this, though Teagan had known what to do when confronted with a woman. Alistair plainly did not.

She eased out from under him, not because she didn't want to wake him, but because she didn't want to wake him /abruptly/. Whatever might be said about his charms in the bedchamber, he was still a very good fighter, and he was also accustomed to sleeping alone. He might put her eye out in misguided self-defense if she woke him.

Finally free of his hot grasp, she breathed a sigh of relief. She wanted to be furious, but looking at his supine form on the bedroll made her lips curl up with a tiny degree of amusement. It was hardly his fault he'd been raised in the Chantry after all.

For now though, she was left with a sleeping would-be-templar and the itch of unsatisfied lust. She cast her eye about the tent to find some means of... satisfaction, though she knew other than the unconscious man at her feet, none was to be found. She bit her lip in frustration, knowing she would never be able to sleep if she couldn't...

She snapped her fingers suddenly, seizing upon an idea. She hastily wrapped a blanket around her body, not wanting to shock anyone by traipsing nude through the camp, and quietly left the tent.

She crept past the fire to Zevran's tent with no incident, and she was rather relieved no one had seen her. It would cause everyone to ask her about her nighttime activities on the morrow, and she simply hated justifying such things to everyone.

Zevran stirred sleepily at her entrance, stretching catlike as he woke, likely to gain her interest. He was like that, she knew. She smiled at him. "Zevran!"

"To what do I owe this unexpected, yet delightful surprise, my lady?"

"I have... a problem," she said delicately. "The sort of problem I felt you would be... best suited to alleviate?"

"Oh?" he said, positively smirking. "A problem? What sort of problem, my dear? There are two things I excel at in life... so perhaps there is something in your tent that needs assassinating."

She tried not to laugh at the image that put in her mind of Zevran hovering over a snoring Alistair, ready to slip a knife between his ribs at her command.

"Well," she replied coyly, "when you put it like that, how can I resist?"

"Ah," he said, standing to face her, ignoring the fact that he was nude. "So it is a problem of the /other/ sort you face."

She licked her lips and nodded. Her skin was tingling and hot, and she ached for him to touch her, to kiss her; to do to her the things that Alistair had not done.

"Shall I take your blanket then?" he said, gently sliding it off her shoulders until it fell to the ground in a heap behind her.

He stared at her with the sort of look that made her feel absolutely desirable. She'd craved that, had found her initial choice lacking. She smiled, held her arms out, "Have your way with me then."

"Oh, I shall," he purred. "I shall indeed."  
***

As always, comments are love.


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